


Warmth

by roanniom



Category: Flip Zimmerman - Fandom
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Masturbation, NSFW, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, flip zimmerman smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:48:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29229495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roanniom/pseuds/roanniom
Summary: Flip cooks you dinner and you share your first night together.
Relationships: Flip Zimmerman & Reader, Flip Zimmerman & You, Flip Zimmerman/Reader, Flip Zimmerman/You
Kudos: 23





	Warmth

You haven’t discussed it, but tonight is the night, and you both know it. When you arrive at Flip’s house, the smell of pasta wafts through the entrance and you’re handed a glass of wine at the door. You drop your bag by the coat rack – a bag that is conspicuously larger than your usual purse because it contains a change of clothes – and take the large hand as it’s offered to you.

“You look amazing tonight, beautiful” Flip tosses over his shoulder at you as he leads you through the darkened house and into a sparse but warm kitchen.

You’d danced this dance many times with many different men before, but the butterflies feel new as you make yourself comfortable in a seat at his kitchen table. Not nerves, per se. More like excitement. Maybe it has something to do with the way Flip is so sweet to you. A friend of a friend, you’d seen Flip in large groups and with other men. You knew how gruff he could be. How serious he could come across. And yet, since the first time he had asked you out, Flip had been nothing but the perfect gentleman.

And more than just a gentleman, Flip was gentle. After the last few relationships you’d been in, his gentleness was completely foreign. You kept waiting for the pendulum to swing in the other direction. For him to take back his kindness like it was a gift of which you were undeserving. Instead, the gifts kept coming. Flowers at your office which made your co-workers titter and gossip. Honeyed words whispered in a darkened movie theater. Late night phone calls which had you twirling your finger through the winding phone cord like you were sixteen again.

As you watch the burly, flannel-clad man in front of you tend to his cluttered stovetop, you feel your heart swell. Taking a sip from your wine glass you hum.

“I never took you for a wine aficionado, but this is really good.”

Flip turns to lean back against the counter as he takes a sip from his own glass, eyes drinking you in as the burgundy liquid passes his lips. 

“What? Surprised I didn’t serve you a sudsy glass of lukewarm beer?”

“I’m always surprised by you, Zimmerman.” You give him a cheeky smile.

“Good. I like keeping you on your toes, beautiful.” Flip winks before turning back to stirring the pot of sauce.

You take another sip but you can no longer distinguish the source of the warmth that has begun to spread throughout your body. It could be the wine – the taste of which is settling deliciously on your tongue – but it also could be Flip, whose broad back you can see flexing beneath his shirt as he moves. Whose small talk makes you laugh and gasp in delight and mock outrage at his teasing.

When he serves you, Flip pulls his chair right up next to yours at the table so that your thighs touch as you dig into the lovely meal he’s prepared. As you continue eating, his hand moves to rest on yours over the placemat, and it feels as natural as the smile on his lips and the way your legs begin to intertwine, almost unconsciously, under the table.

Eventually your plates are empty save for the last dregs of sauce and you both are doubled over in laughter as Flip finishes the tale of a particularly embarrassing stakeout. The hand he’s not using to hold yours drops under the table so he can brace himself on your knee as he laughs, body fully turned to yours.

“You should have seen Ron’s face when we opened the guy’s trunk and found it filled to the brim with – “

“Pez dispensers?!”

“Yes! I’m usually the guy more prone to violence, but I swear to god I thought I was going to have to pry Ron off that man’s dead body.”

The rich sound of Flip’s laughter fills the room and you finally have the answer to your earlier internal question. The warmth coursing through your veins is most certainly caused by an intoxication of the Flip variety. You drain your glass, almost as if to compare the tingle on your lips to the tingle inspired in other places as you gaze at Flip, finishing off his story with gusto. He’s altogether more tonight than he normally is. Not that he’s a particularly quiet man, but you always would have described him as more reserved. But here he seems utterly comfortable. Here in the comfort of his own home, belly full of a warm meal, and large hand sliding back and forth over your bare knee.

You rest your chin on your palm then, elbow balanced on the table as you lean forward into his space.

“Tell me more about you being the violent one,” you croon, eyelashes batting. Flip chuckles and leans into your space, mirroring your own movements.

“Well let’s just say I’m not afraid to do what needs to be done.”

“Hmmm sounds like a little more than that,” you say with a smirk. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say it sounds like you like it a little rough.”

Flip’s hand begins migrating up your thigh, pushing underneath the hem of your dress to massage circles into the flesh beneath. His other hand, which has been holding yours still this whole time, plays with your fingers.

“And what about you? What do you like?” He allows his fingers to interlace with yours as he brings your hand slowly up to his mouth, eyes never breaking contact with yours. “Do you like things slow. Gentle. Sweet?” Between each word he presses a kiss to your skin. First on your knuckles, next into the crook of your elbow, and finally onto your shoulder. He leans back and watches you with hooded eyes before yanking you by the hand. You gasp, body flying into him, pulled from your chair onto his lap. “Or do you like it rough, too?”

“I’m not law enforcement, so I’m not sure the question applies to me the same,” you respond breathlessly. Flip chuckles in response.

“You’re a clever one.”

As quick as he’d pulled you into him, he’s placing you back into your own chair and you practically pout at the sudden lack of contact.

“What – ?”

“Gotta clean up, beautiful.” He picks up the plates and empty wine glasses and drops them into the basin of the sink. When you move to help him, he holds up an authoritative hand. “No, you don’t. You’re my guest and you’re not lifting a single pretty finger.”

“But you cooked, I – “

“Keep that ass in that seat, baby,” he says before turning his back to you to begin the process of washing the dishes. A devilish grin spreads across your face as you get an idea, getting up from your seat carefully so that no scrape of the chair legs can give away your movement. Stepping out of your shoes to quiet your footsteps you creep up behind Flip quickly, wrapping your arms around his middle.

Though you feel his body stiffen for a second at the contact, he loosens up quickly, throwing a glance over his shoulder at you but continuing the process of sponging down a plate.

“Miss me that quickly, darlin’?”

“I always miss you, Flip,” you say, pressing your cheek into his back. “Every time you aren’t touching me.”

The plates clatter to the bottom of the sink suddenly, dropped from midair. Large wet and soapy hand’s grasp lightly at your wrists and you inhale sharply.

“This better?”

“A little bit,” you squeak, pleased he’s playing a long. “Not exactly what I had in mind.”

Suddenly Flip’s spun around and you’re being slammed against the counter on the opposite side of the kitchen. His hands are still at your wrists, pinning your arms down at your sides, but they begin to move up.

“Still missing me, baby?” Flip asks, amusement in his eyes quickly darkening into something else. His knee nudges your legs wider apart, thigh pushing up into the apex of your thighs just as his hands round your shoulders and underarms, dipping down to encase your breasts in a wet and soapy grip. You sigh around a moan.

“That’s better,” you nod your head, satisfied. Flip’s head dips to trail kisses from your throat to the neckline of your dress, following the line of your cleavage to the center point between his groping, kneading hands. Your nipples harden beneath the now wet fabric and Flip feels them. He drags his hands down to your hips to admire his handiwork.

“Oh yes, I’d say that’s much better.” A roguish smile does nothing to lighten the dark heat of Flip’s gaze as he takes you in. The soaking fabric clings to your breast, the outline of your nipples clearly defined beneath. “But I hate to break it to you, baby. I don’t think you’ll be able to leave like this. It’s not appropriate.”

“And why is that, Zimmerman?” You quirk an eyebrow at him and puff out your chest a bit more.

“It’s not safe. Not with you sopping wet and looking like every single man’s dirty fantasy come true.” Flip’s fingers dig into your hip along with the statement, grounding you to the moment. Grounding you to him.

“What about you, Zimmerman. Am I your dirty fantasy come true?”

“Every single one of them.” And with that Flip’s lips claim yours, arms constricting around your body to crush you to him like you’ll never be able to leave, not even once the front of your dress dries.

And if Flip is living his fantasy, you are most certainly living yours, because suddenly you’re being hoisted into the air and carried bridal style through his darkened him. You expect to be tossed onto a bed, but instead you are lowered down, his hand never leaving the back of your head until after he’s eased it down onto a pillow.

You’re stripped slowly, almost ceremoniously, the buttons down your front carefully unfastened and then the soaked fabric slowly peeled off your body.

“I’ll ask you again – slow and sweet or rough. What’ll it be.” His voice is hot in your ear as Flip cages you in with his body. The warm tingling which had begun earlier is now a burning desperation, having only been fanned by a lovely meal, flirty banter, and, finally, the crescendoing physical contact. You card your fingers through his wavy black hair and tug, pulling him down to you so you can whisper right back into his ear.

“Give me all you’ve got, Zimmerman.”

You barely have enough time to register before Flip – now equally as bare – has got your thighs hitched up around his waist and his whole palm dragging lightly up and down your dripping pussy through your panties.

“Sure you can take it, baby?” He lightens his touch further, palm lifting and leaving just his index finger to press on your clit through the fabric. You buck into his hand and shudder, to which he tsks in mock disapproval. “So sensitive already.”

“I can take it!” you yelp, lifting your hips off the bed to grind against him. Flip presses a large hand firmly against your lower abdomen, pushing you down into the mattress and preventing any further motion, despite your desperate squirms.

“I don’t know. This pussy seems so little. I bet you’re so tight.” The hand not pressing you down continues its teasing of your clothed slit, always circling back to rub over your now pulsing bud. “I don’t think you’re used to having someone as big as me.”

Impatient now, you reach down to the waistband of his boxers, the only garment still on him. He catches your hand before it can reach its target and he pulls it up to his face.

“Even these fingers are small. Are you even able to make yourself cum with these?” He pops said fingers into his mouth and you moan at the feeling of his tongue swirling between them. Your hips gyrate, though he still presses you firmly into the mattress.

“Yes,” you say, defiantly, adding on, “when I think of you.”

The movement of his tongue against your fingers ceases and he slowly pulls them out of his mouth. A devious smile replaces them on his lips and he bears down on you.

“Show me.”

You want to act coy and asking him what he means. But you know what he means and you’re done acting coy. You can feel his hard length pressing into you and you want it. Enough that prolonging the foreplay seems less enticing then the heft of his cock as it splits you open so before you can think too much about it, your spit-slicked fingers are moving under your panties, pressing and dragging and circling in all the right ways.

Flip watches with hooded eyes as you work, completely mesmerized. You yourself are quick to get caught up, primed as you already were from all of the banter and the making out and the sight and feel of him there, between your thighs.

You watch his chest begin to move up and down with excited breath as small whimpers and moans issue from your lips. As good as your own fingers feel, his teasing was correct. Your fingers are not what you want getting you off right now. So you improvise.

“This isn’t a 100% recreation of what I do. If authenticity is what we’re going for here,” you say, proud that your words only stutter slightly.

“Oh yeah?” Flip asks, amused and curious as to where you could be going with this. His hand absently grasps at your breast, squeezing and twisting the flesh. “What can we do to make it 100%?”

You push against him them, prompting him to roll in his back, pulling you with him to straddle him. You take the opportunity to divest yourself of your underwear during the transition, and when you settle back down, your cunt drips slick arousal right onto his bare skin. Flip groans at the feeling, shucking his own underwear, too, no longer willing to tease things out any further.

Your hand returns to your cunt and you get up on your knees on the mattress, legs on either side of his body. You lean forward and press your free hand into his hard chest for support, angling your body to get the right combination of gravity and pelvic positioning so that you’re able to plunge two fingers into your hole while also stimulating your clit.

The moan that pulls from your throat is loud. It’s showy. It’s meant to do a job and it does, getting Flip to lose the final grip he had on control.

“That’s enough. That’s my job now,” he growls, all but wrenching your hand from your cunt, pulling your fingers back into his mouth to taste the essence of you. He hums in enjoyment, hips bucking up into yours from beneath. His cock connects with the slippery wet of your outer folds and you grind down into him, trying to move things along. You lean forward further to press wet kisses to his chest and throat.

“All you’ve got, Flip,” you basically mewl. Flip doesn’t make you wait a second longer. Grasping your hips, he lifts your body up long enough to line you up with his cock before pulling you down and thrusting up at the same time.

The feeling of Flip inside you makes you want to laugh and cry at the same time. You’d known he’d be big – you’d felt it rub up against you during makeout sessions and while out dancing and you’d even held it briefly through his pants when a good night kiss in his car had turned hot and heavy one night.

But as Flip moves beneath you, it’s so much more than the size of his cock. It’s also about the way his muscles ripple under his skin from the exertion. The way his hands don’t seem to know where to land, instead roving every inch of your body that they can reach. Curving around to grasp the globes of your ass. Moving up to cup your cheek, your jaw. Encircling your throat with the ghost of a squeeze that leaves you with a curiosity you’re sure you’ll explore in a future fuck. The way he grunts and groans and moans so openly, so freely. The gruff detective he presents himself as to the rest of the world has melted away, leaving this vocal and beautiful man, unafraid to writhe and thrust and tell you exactly what he loves about what you’re doing.

When you place your hand right at the place where you two are joined, your palm presses your clit and your fingers graze his cock each time it unsheathes from your wet heat. He shivers at the sensation.

“Fuck that feels good, baby,” he gets out through gritted teeth.

“I want to make you feel good, Flip,” you try to say, but it comes out as a sort of whine.

“Well I want to make you cum. Can you do that for me, baby? Are you close?”

You’re spread out over his body now, doubled over in pleasure and clinging to him as you chase your release.

“Y-yes, I’m close. I can do that.”

“That’s good, baby girl, that’s good.” Your cunt clenches at his words and he moans at the feeling. “I love it when you clamp down on me, darlin’, fuck that’s good.”

You’re so close that all of your muscles are strung taut as can be and you’re no longer able to piston yourself up and down on his cock. Aware of the way your body is seizing, Flip flips you over then and drives his cock back into you, pushing you back up the bed. You grab your legs under the knees and pull them up tight to adjust the angle and he bottoms out deliciously.

“Oh god oh god oh god – Flip!”

“Yeah? Right there?”

You can’t even respond because he’s still pounding that perfect spot and you’re gone. Tumbling over into numbing ecstasy, a feeling that reverberates through your bones and causes you to tremble in his arms as every muscle spasms, your cunt especially.

Flip continues to fuck you through your orgasm, cursing into the crook of your neck where he places sucking, bruising kisses to try and anchor himself to the moment, not yet ready to let go himself. When he does, he pulls out and paints your stomach with hot sticky cum, shaking and shuddering above you.

Much too soon your body loses contact with his and you’re immediately disoriented, still struck slightly dumb from the force of the experience.

“Flip?” you call out. He returns a second later, still gloriously naked and holding a damp washcloth which he uses to clean his spend off your stomach with gentle strokes. Once you’re clean he pulls you to him for a deep kiss, your body fitting against the curves and grooves of his.

“Thank you for dinner,” you say, almost shy now, heartbeat returning to normal.

“Thank you for dessert,” he replies with a smile. This causes you to laugh, muscles melting and relaxing, all tension completely gone.

And yes. The warmth you feel shooting through your system is most decidedly Flip-induced.

~*~


End file.
